


from the best of days

by averagefaces



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 12:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averagefaces/pseuds/averagefaces
Summary: he exhales loudly and nods, fixes chansung with a look. not the 'i'm the hyung, you shit, you listen to me right now, please', or the 'shut up and keep singing, you're good' look. this is the 'i know, i know, i'm right here, man, right here with you' look they've only shared twice. once when chansung went through his 'i think i wanna spend the rest of my life with junho' freak-out (though lord only knows why he'd freak out—it had taken him long enough, jesus, even jinyoung had sent a card with 'finally – best wishes' being the only message, no shit), and the night little junseo was born.(he's seen the look mirrored in chansung's eyes once, too, but they don't talk about it. that bit belongs to junsu and minjun hasn't been junsu for a long time.)





	from the best of days

**Author's Note:**

> published february 2014. revised march 2017. repostes december 2018. this is a work of fiction, no harm intended to any parties involved. please do not repost/copy or translate without permission. thank you for reading!

 

"oh my god," minjun says as soon as he opens the door and takes in chansung's face, "oh my god, who _died_?"

chansung purses his lips and swats a hand in the general direction of minjun's face. (rude, by the way.) (minjun is way above this whole swatting thing but he swats right back and manages to smack chansung over the cheek.)

"no one died." is what the little shit says as minjun closes the door. "at least not yet, anyway."

"you look like shit." minjun doesn't feel slightly guilty as he ushers chansung into the living room—he _does_ look like shit. those eyebags could beat the living lights out of the ones when they were, like, twenty.

"i _feel_ like shit," chansung groans, and drops himself on the first couch nearest him. never mind minjun's music sheets are spread all over it, _no_ , if hwang chansung has the need to sit down, he's going to do it on top of whatever he finds.

some things never change, apparently, minjun realizes as he sits on the couch next to chansung's.

"how's the little jun doing?" he ask wryly while snatching a stray sheet from under chansung's ass. he flattens it out on his thigh as chansung sighs, completely unaware he's sitting on top of minjun's next album.

"he's cranky as fuck lately. cries a lot. throws tantrums every five minutes."

minjun sighs and sits back against the backrest. "sounds like things a baby would do."

"oh, no," chansung says, staring absently into fuck knows what, he's always been weird, this one, "i was talking about junho."

"figures," minjun mutters, and only smiles a little (a little!) when chansung does, too. "i still can't believe you guys have a kid. like, proper infant. y'know, a breathing, living human being. well, a tiny one."

"yeah, me neither," chansung says, and he's smiling that 'proud father' face he makes whenever junseo so much as blinks.

"i can't believe you made _fucking taecyeon_ the godfather, either, but whatever floats your boat." minjun isn't bitter about this. fuck no. he might have a been _a little_ resentful five months ago but he's over that now. (he might still text taecyeon many variations of _my impersonation of brando is way better than urs u fuck face_ but it's all really friendly. no, really.)

chansung laughs and folds his fingers over his lap. there are more crinkles in the corner of his eyes than minjun remembers from back when, but it looks good on him. the eyebags, too, even. makes him look more like a man—not that he didn't look like a man _before_ , he just looks. settled. happy. _alive_.

minjun hasn't had any coffee yet, okay, he was just in the middle of that and then chansung decided to knock on his door at seven fucking am.

"not that i don't appreciate you coming all the way here, because i do, i really do," minjun says, eyes searching chansung's face for a twitch or something (just because he's fifteen years older than when they first met doesn't mean he can't read him like an open book. a kid's book, now, even), "but what's up? i mean, i'm not, like, _freaking out_ , but i could be. possibly in the next ten to fifteen seconds."

chansung laughs again and shakes his head. "nothing's wrong, don't worry." minjun politely doesn't point out 'nothing's wrong' doesn't mean 'everything's okay', not necessarily. he makes a 'go on' gesture when chansung just looks at him, watches him run a hand through his hair. "it's just. saturday's the fourth."

yeah, minjun knows that. his deadline is on the third and he'd eyed the producer a bit warily, wondering whether there was an inside joke he was supposed to be catching, but jungmin had just looked at him blankly and wished him good luck. minjun's been ticking off days in every calendar in the house, and fei's always going off about how "crowding the place with calendars doesn't mean you're still gonna get shit done in time if you don't even put half a mind into it."

minjun's always loved her for a reason.

he exhales loudly and nods, fixes chansung with a look. not the 'i'm the hyung, you shit, you listen to me right now, _please_ ', or the 'shut up and keep singing, _you're good_ ' look. this is the 'i know, i know, i'm right here, man, right here with you' look they've only shared twice. once when chansung went through his ' _i think i wanna spend the rest of my life with junho'_ freak-out (though lord only knows why he'd freak out—it had taken him long enough, jesus, even jinyoung had sent a card with ' _finally – best wishes_ ' being the only message, no shit), and the night little junseo was born. (he's seen the look mirrored in chansung's eyes once, too, but they don't talk about it. that bit belongs to junsu and minjun hasn't been junsu for a long time.)

"i know," he says, and picks at the seam of the cushion next to his thigh.

there's silence for a bit, and minjun wonders if he should play polite host and ask chansung if he wants coffee or something, but it's barely eight am and minjun doesn't put up an act until at least noon nowadays. besides, it doesn't look like chansung needs any caffeine.

"i can't believe it'd be fifteen years? i mean, i thought we'd last longer, right, but. but this is actually good, isn't it?" chansung barely stammers, and it's so weird, to see him _doubt_. he hasn't done that in a while, at least not in front of minjun.

"it is," he says, "to be honest i didn't think we'd make it that long. ten years is still rather impressive."

"junho thinks we should throw a party." chansung's shoulders slump forward, his elbows on his thighs. "but i know he only wants a reason to get smashed and leave me alone while taking care of junseo."

"well you _did_ leave him all alone for a month to go to cannes or some shit. can't hold it against him."

"i was _awarded_ ," chansung pouts. well on his thirties and the little sit thinks a pout will get him out of trouble.

"and we're still very proud of that," minjun nods, a shit-eating grin on his face.

chansung groans. "so you'd totally back him up with this party thing, wouldn't you?"

"completely," minjun nods again, and props his feet on the coffee table, right next to where his forgotten laptop is. his manager is probably shitting himself right now considering minjun had and email to reply fifteen minutes ago and his phone is all the way upstairs in his room in silent mode. "i can even host it here."

now _that's_ going to make his manager have, at least, three seizures.

"ugh, i hate you, i don't even know why i came to you in the first place," chansung mutters, sullenly crossing his arms over his chest. some things definitely don't change.

"because wooyoung and nichkhun aren't back from paris yet, and taecyeon isn't up until, like, two pm, the annoying fucker."

"actually nichkhun is back already, he had a bit of a campaign thingy for his book." chansung squints his eyes, as if he's trying to remember something. "dunno if wooyoung is with him, though, he seemed really into the whole 'let's recruit french dancers for the company' last we spoke."

"he still working for the big guy?"

"something like that, i'm not sure. he should be back by friday, anyway," chansung shrugs, and minjun claps his hands, back to his original point.

"alright, how about this," he starts, and if he's grinning a bit too wide, it's just the lack of caffeine, nothing else, "you lot come for lunch on saturday, and then you and junho-boy go out on a date while the best uncles ever babysit little junseo? sound good?"

chansung has the decency to narrow his eyes. "are you willingly going to do us a favor? is this another 'i need help to write a theme song', because last we did you won an oscar and didn't even invite us to the party. wooyoung was pissed because we had to watch it on tv rather than being _in_ it."

minjun waves a hand dismissively. "no way, this is totally on me. take it as a 'happy anniversary to us all' kinda present. besides, you know how we all love little junseo. we love him more than we love taecyeon's kid, for christ's sake."

"you're awful," chansung deadpans.

"that kid _bites_ , okay, she rips through _flesh_ with her tiny little teeth," minjun defends himself, "which is a good thing for her, i guess, because just imagine the hard time she'd have through school if she'd gotten her dad's teeth. awful."

chansung doesn't look amused, but maybe that's because he's sooyeon's godfather. someone needs to make minjun _someone's_ godfather so he has a right to play favorites, damn it.

chansung stands. "i'll tell junho you're hosting."

minjun nods. "alright. don't call taec, though, i don't like him. never did, actually, i'm just that good of an actor. seriously, my talent is wasting away writing oscar-winning soundtracks."

"of course," chansung makes a face, his eyes laughing even though his mouth is a flat line. he makes for the hall and minjun follows. "don't forget to call jay."

"now jay, jay i liked. he was so sane." minjun sighs wistfully and pats chansung's shoulders as they reach the door.

"'was' being the keyword there," chansung laughs.

"you're just jealous i get to see him more often than you do." he's not being childish. he's not. he's above that.

chansung rolls his eyes as he hugs minjun goodbye. "say hello to fei for me."

"right-o," minjun nods, and leans against the threshold of the door to wave chansung off as he walks down the garden (his manager's idea) towards the parking space (his idea). "tell junho he needs to get me the lyrics for the disney song, their people are literally going to make my manager's aorta explode."

"will do," chansung makes a 'got it' sign with his hand (that looks more like the bird than anything else, seriously, this little _shit_ ) and gets on his car, grinning at minjun as he starts the engine and pulls onto the drive way (fei's idea) that leads to the gate (everyone's idea after the fifth fan-breaking).

minjun watches him drive with a small smile, the warm summer breeze smelling a bit like earth and flowers. probably the flowers fei had insisted on putting under the windows. they look pretty, though, minjun has to at least give her that.

tiny arms wrap around his legs. "daddy?"

"hey there, champ," minjun smiles down at minsoo and picks him up, hoisting him on his hip as he kicks the door shut. "why are you up so early?"

"i was hungry," minsoo says, rubbing at his eyes, "i was having a dream about a dragon but it kept asking me about sandwiches and it made me hungry so i woke up."

"oh, boy," minjun laughs, striding to the kitchen and setting him on the counter as he gets the bread and the cheese from the fridge. "might as well feed that dragon."

minsoo claps excitedly, his hair flapping in every direction when he shakes himself. he does that when he's excited, which is a thing minjun used to do when he was a kid, too, according to his mom. (minjun sincerely hopes that's not the only thing minsoo inherited from him because his 'excitement' usually costs a lot of broken jars and tables.)

"can we make one for mommy, too?" minsoo grins. when he does that he gets dimples on his cheeks, tiny little dents that remind minjun of his dad. it's like a punch to the gut, sometimes, because his brother doesn't have them but he does, and yet it's not the same, feels different to see them in _his_ son's face.

"daddy?"

minjun swallows past the tiny lump on his throat and nods. "of course we can. we should probably keep the fact you're gonna help me cut the cheese to ourselves, though."

"why?" minsoo's pout is ridiculously cute.

"because if she finds out i let you use the knife she's gonna make me sleep on the couch until you're eighteen."

"i heard that," comes a sing-song voice from upstairs, and minjun sighs, mock-defeated.

"she knows our secret," he says, and sags against a stool, dropping his head on minsoo's tiny little legs. everything about him is so tiny and little and fragile and minjun loves him so much he can't breathe sometimes. it's not the same love he has for fei, though, or for his family, or the rest of the guys.

it's different. it's the kind of love that gives his life direction, purpose.

minsoo giggles. "daddy, your head is heavy."

"it's because my brain is brilliant," minjun declares, and scoops minsoo from the counter and sets him down. good thing he remembered to put the slippers on, or else there'd be a pretty annoyed fei about how no one remembers the kitchen floor is _cold_ and if one of the gets sick she is going to feed them anchovies and nothing else.

"go to mom, okay? i'll be right up with the sandwiches," he tells minsoo, and watches him crow in glee as he sprints up the stairs at the speed of light.

there's a bump, something breaking, and a shout of, "it wasn't me!" that minjun (and fei, even if she denies it later) laughs at while silently cutting the sandwiches in halves. he sincerely hopes some things never change. because this? this he wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

**_the end._ **


End file.
